Terracotta Army

I’d been looking forward to flying out of Shanghai. Not because I was glad to be leaving the city –quite the opposite infact – but because it meant I got to ride the fastest form of land transport in the world.

Maglev this way...

Shanghai’s Pudong airport is more than 20 miles from the city centre, a good hour’s ride on the underground. So being a futuristic bunch, they decided to build a shuttle between the outer city centre and the airport – using magnets.

Maglev arrives

It’s a bit like a cross between the Heathrow Express rail service from London and the Alton Towers monorail – but at warp speed! An incredible 431km/h (268mph) to be precise, faster than any car on earth. Its all done thanks to the opposite poles of powerful magnets – the effect you get when they don’t stick together but push away from each other.

Some bright spark has managed to make this into a form of transport, by fixing the powerful magnets to a monorail-style train and an elevated track. The result is quite staggering – the 18 mile journey gets covered in seven minutes thanks to a complete absence of friction! Its even a popular video on Youtube, such is the speed the train reaches.

Having completed the longest rail journey in the world, I just had to add ‘fastest land transport journey’ to the list too. I had to pick up my tickets from a counter in the terminal between 2.30pm and 3pm, for my flight to Xi’An in western China at 4.45pm. I arrived at the Maglev terminal at 2.20pm – and was gutted to see it doesn’t run at full speed until 3pm. At all other times, it crawls along at 320km/h.

 Well that wasn’t much faster than the bullet train the other day, and as I watched the world fly by the window, I was annoyed that I wouldn’t experience the full speed the Maglev is capable of. It took over eight minutes to cover the distance, but all along I was looking at my watch and thinking – could I pick up my tickets and get back to the Maglev in time to ride it at full speed, back to Shanghai, and get back in time for my flight?

I soon found the ticket counter and thankfully there were no queues at check-in. I dumped my backpack on the conveyer, got given my boarding card and looked at my watch. It was 2.50pm, the flight boards at 4.15pm – surely I could make it

With all of my belongings on the way to the cargo hold of a Hainan Airlines jet, I knew it was tight and left very little room for error or catastrophe. If the Maglev breaks down,it would cause far to many problems to even think about. But I couldn’t leave Shanghai without experiencing it – after all, I might never return or have another chance!

It was a busy service...

With a bit of a quick walk I reached the ticket office and paid around £8 for the return trip. A man waved me through saying the next Maglev was leaving, and I was safely on the 3pm trip back to Shanghai. It was the first of the afternoon to go at full pelt, and what an experience. With a bit of a shudder, it pulls out of the station and picks up speed. It then takes on a bit of a feeling of a theme park ride – you can hear the engine or magnets, or whatever it is that propels it, rising in pitch and you can feel the g-force keeping you in your seat. Trees and houses start to go past quicker and quicker, before they turn into factories and warehouses as we quickly reach the outskirts of the city.

 Before long the digital display is showing 350km/h and still rising. The noise is still increasing and there’s no sign of the Maglev slowing. Outside, bridges pass overhead in a blink, with everything going by so quickly you have no real time to focus or look at anything. Cars travelling full speed on a motorway alongside the track appear almost at a standstill. By now the carriages are shaking a little, a gentle vibration as we hit 400km/h. We’re already going almost twice as fast as an airliner at take-off, and still the speed counter climbs. As a bit of a speed freak, it was fantastic – and people onboard realise it, with so many passengers looking at each other and smiling in amazement, taking photographs and filming the scene outside the windows. It was the sort of speed that makes you think ‘surely this is dangerous

Top speed!!

Its so fast, we’re only at its top speed of 431km/h for a minute or so, and no sooner had we left the airport we were slowing down and arriving back in Shanghai.

I got off, ran downstairs, through the turnstiles and back up the stairs on the opposite side of the platform to get back on the same Maglev for the trip back. Seven minutes later, at 3.25pm, I was back at the airport – in plenty of time to join the other tourists taking photos of this brilliant piece of engineering and get through security in time for boarding.

For £8 return, the journey should be a tourist attraction in its own right – I imagine many people have already done the same as me judging by the smiles of staff acknowledging what I was up to. It was money well spent – it would cost a heck of a lot more to be taken for a spin in a Bugatti Veyron to get anywhere close to that speed, and even then the Maglev is faster.

Noodles and blog!

There was time for some beef and noodles before the flight, where yet again the locals took pleasure in watching the westerner trying to use chopsticks, while the free wifi meant time for a blog update.

It was a two and a half hour flight to Xi’An, and while I wasn’t expecting anything special for my £90 ticket, I was pleasantly surprised. A full meal service with drinks,  a lovely new plane with lots of leg room, comfy seats….and a lot of phlegm.

I’d been holding off writing about this, but quite simply, my patience reached its limit on the aircraft. China has to be the ‘phleghmiest’ nation in the world. You cannot walk the streets for more than 90 seconds without hearing one of the locals, shall we say, ‘clearing their throat’. It’s always very loud, very visible, and to be honest, quite disgusting. It got to the point where it makes you shudder. It doesn’t matter where you are – I saw it happen on trains, on platforms, in shopping centres, at museums, and now planes

First plane in a while!

.Across the aisle from me was possible the largest, sweatiest Chinese guy I had seen during my stay, and for me, also the most disgusting. We’d just taken off when I heard the familiar noise come from him…and immediately wondered what he would do with the ‘deposit’. Well, in China, airsickness bags have another use

From Shanghai to Xi’An it felt like absolutely everyone was at it. There was a phlegm chorus at one point, so bad I almost had to cover my ears to switch off from it. Even through the meal service there was no respite. Its revolting, and apparently there has  even been a government campaign to try to cut down the level of spitting.

It hasn’t worked.

Xi’An was a real highlight for me though. It was a bonus visit that I hadn’t scheduled in, so the fact I was seeing anything there was great, let alone one of the greatest discoveries in this part of the world

The Bell Tower, Xi An

.I only had one full day in the city, but decided against an organised tour to see the Terracotta Warriors. My Lonely Planet I had ‘borrowed’ from the Beijing hostel said it was easy enough to get to on a public bus, and it’s always nice to be free from time limits and ‘shopping stops’ that the tours so love.

As I wouldn’t see Xi’An by day, I decided to walk through the city to find the railway station. It’s a very old place – it was once the centre of the Chinese empire – and there’s a huge city wall which still survives. It’s a busy city built up around one of its main landmarks, the Bell Tower.

Xi'An city wall

It took about an hour to reach the northern gateway to the city, and I was still some way off from the railway station to the east. I decided to walk along the top of the city wall, which was a great vantage point for spotting where I needed to be. The bus was easy to find, and soon I was walking through the grounds where the Terracotta Warriors were found

Mountains around the site

.I watched a film about how they were first discovered in 1974 by a villager out digging a well. Little did he know that the fragments of pottery and clay he was bringing to the surface would turn out to be one of the greatest ever historical finds. He’s done alright out of it though – he’s now got a special building near the exit to the site where he sits all day signing copies of his book

The bits of clay he’d found were parts of an estimated 8,000 full-sized, highly detailed warriors, complete with weapons and horses, and arranged in full military fighting positions

The soldiers in the main pit

They had been constructed by hundreds of thousands of people under orders of Emperor Qin, the first emperor of China (pronounced ‘Chin’ hence ‘China’) who believed that when he died, he could still be a leader in the afterlife. But if he was to be buried and be a leader underground, he needed his own army to protect him. Therefore, the terracotta warriors were built. Ironically, the emperor died while visiting the area, and so that’s where they were buried

Pit 3

.

There are three pits where the warriors were found, all fairly close to each other. I’d been advised, and it turned out to be a great tip, to tour the museum in reverse, starting with the smaller pit and building to the larger pit.

Remains in the pit

The smaller pit had very few soldiers in it, but it was still quite a special sight to see this huge hole in the ground, complete with clear marks left behind by artefacts that were found, including chariot wheels and the remains of wooden beams which protected the tombs.

Bronze chariot for the Emperor

The main pit was incredible. The sheer size of the area where the warriors were found, the rows upon rows of immaculately restored warriors standing to attention, the excavation work and restoration work that is still ongoing.

Still digging

So far around 2,000 warriors have been found at the main site, and its estimated there will be up to 6,000 of them recovered in there by the time all the work is completed.

Piecing together the jigsaw

It will take many, many years for them to be found and restored, piece by piece. Its like the world’s biggest, most challenging jigsaw – and the final result is still a long way off.

In the meantime, thousands of people visit the site. The soldiers are all different, with different features, faces, weapons and stances. The work that must have gone on thousands of years ago is hard to comprehend. It’s also amazing to look at the warriors and imagine what life must have been like for the people who made them, and to think about how, at some point, they would have all looked fully painted up and stood in formation.

I was almost the last one to leave the site, even taking in Emperor Qing’s mausoleum on the way out, which is at a seperate site a few minutes drive away on a free bus.

I had spent all day on my feet and walked for miles after a particularly tiring week, but decided to walk back through the city to the hostel to take in the atmosphere on my last night in China. I bought some street food – a bit more mystery meat on a stick, although it was a bit more ‘chickeny’ than the last one I tried; and some more of the stick haws, the little crab apples in sugar on a stick. I sat on a plant pot and ate them watching the traffic trying to negotiate the roundabout around the Bell Tower, before finding a night market and looking at just how bad some of the fake Abercrombie and Fitch fakes were. They’re quite special!

Night market

The colour and atmosphere of the Chinese night markets is always a spectacle – the atmosphere, the smells (not all good) the banter with the locals trying to sell you something you’d never need in a million years….its typically Chinese and great fun.

There was also a new thing being sold on the streets – a view of the moon. All thanks to some entrepreneur who’s managed to strap Hubble onto the back of a rickshaw…

The Nasa rickshaw!

Tomorrow I fly to the warmer climes of Thailand, but my 10 days in China had been a true experience. From arriving on the most famous train in the world and pulling into the Chinese capital with new-found friends, to seeing the famous Tiananmen Square and Forbidden City, flying around on superfast trains and whizzing up and down one of the tallest buildings in the world. It had been a packed 10 days and I felt tired, but I’d managed to see the main sights I wanted to see in this huge country. A great mix of old and new.

Shanghai by night

It was 3am on the day I was travelling to Shanghai when I finally got into bed, having had just a couple of drinks in a packed Beijing nightclub called Vics. Three hours later, I was getting up again to watch the raising of the flag ceremony in Tiananmen Square.

Chinese flag being raised at dawn

It was something that I’d seen on signs around the square, monitored by police and soldiers, and takes place twice a day, at sunrise and sunset. There’s lots of soldiers marching around, music, the flag of China being hoisted up the huge flagpole opposite Mao’s portrait, that kind of thing. I’d tried – and failed – to wake up early enough on two previous occasions, but this was my last chance as my train to Shanghai left Beijing’s South Station at 10am.

“You’ll never do it. Its crazy,” Santi said to me as we headed to bed just a few hours ago.

Plenty of early risers

Somehow, despite a slight hangover, I made it, and walked along with the Chinese public through Tiananmen Square to go and watch this most patriotic of ceremonies. Despite the early hour, there were hundreds, if not thousands of people there, all wanting their glimpse of the flag being raised. At precisely 6.45am, the national anthem began, everyone jostled for a look, and at precisely the moment the flag reached the top of the pole, the anthem came to a natural end. It was perfect timing – and obviously very well rehearsed.

And that was it – a few soldiers did a little march, but everyone was too busy heading to their flag-waving tour leader, and no doubt on to their buses, for a day of sightseeing.

I headed back to bed for an hour, wondering if it was really worth the effort getting up – it hardly gave our Changing of the Guard ceremony a run for its money!

Thankfully, I didn’t sleep through my re-set alarm, stuffed the last of my belongings into my bag and put my jacket on. I had to say goodbye to Santi and Gali here, which was a real shame as we’d become good mates, even despite the fact Gali and I could only have decent conversations through Santi acting as an interpreter!

We first met in Russia, at the backpackers in Irkutsk, so we’d spent the best part of two weeks together, with a few other people along the way. It just so happened our itineraries matched, so we ended up hanging out and booking hostels together. Sadly, they don’t leave for Shanghai for another few days. We’d had some brilliant laughs together though, and I’d like to think we’ll stay in touch.

Now, I was on my own again, for the first time since Russia which was already seeming like quite some time ago. Laden down with all my bags yet again, I headed to the incredibly modern Beijing South Station, to get onboard an even more modern Bullet train to Shanghai.

Swish!

Everything is set out like an airport. Infact, you don’t see any trains as they are all beneath you, and with the huge futuristic station, incredibly high ceiling, gigantic electronic destination board and the fact you have to ‘check in’ with your rail ticket, it does feel more like you’re at an airport than Beijing’s equivalent of King’s Cross.

But if I thought the station was impressive, the actual train was like something from the future. A long, streamlined, pointed nose stretches out, while the immaculately white and spotlessly clean carriages are constantly being polished by an army of cleaners. Whether it helps with its top speed, I’m not entirely sure – but at least you could see out of the windows.

A go-faster polish!

As it whizzed up to its top speed of 307km/hr, the world started rushing past the window. It was spectacularly quick and very comfortable – a long, long way from the trans-Siberian trains I had spent so many days on.

I took the slow train

I fell asleep for a few hours thanks to the early start and late night, but thankfully my headache had started to go away. In less than five hours – 4hrs 48mins to be precise – we had covered more than 800 miles between the two cities and pulled into Shanghai. To put that into some kind of perspective, it’s the equivalent of travelling from Cornwall to the top of Scotland in less than five hours. Amazing.

A bit different to the trans-Siberian

While on the train, I’d been looking at the calendar. I’d worked out that with a clever bit of fast sightseeing in Shanghai, I had just enough time for a stop in Xi’An, home of the Terracotta Warriors, if flight schedules and prices were kind to me.

I found the hostel quite easily thanks to some much better directions from the website, and it was quite some hostel. The Rock and Wood in Shanghai is classed as the number one ‘alternative’ accommodation in the city on Tripadvisor, and it was easy to see why – fabulous fish-filled pond, decking, floor to ceiling windows onto the terrace, free pool, cheap bar, excellent rooms. It was more like an upmarket hotel – and it was just £5 a night!

The first thing I did in Shanghai? I put a load of washing on! (it was about time!)

Posh hostel

When it was all dried, I went out to explore and headed to the Bund, the main waterfront area where you can see the famous skyline.

Shanghai skyline

My journey took me along the main shopping street in the city, but it was lit up with so much neon it put Piccadilly Circus to shame.

Shanghai at night

There were street entertainers everywhere, music, groups of Chinese people singing to some crazy man acting as a conductor, and street hawkers trying to sell you absolutely anything.

On the mile or so walk, I was offered dozens of annoying lit-up helicopter things that are constantly floating down to the ground, noisy pebbles, spinning tops, laser pens, kites, roller wheels for my shoes, some funny glasses, a dog (real), various massages, some authentic Chinese tea (not again!) about three ‘beautiful women’ and one ‘gorgeous guy’.

I declined all the offers.

Shanghai nights

I eventually beat off the sales pitches and made it to the waterfront, where there were hundreds of people relaxing and taking in the view. Low cloud was getting in the way, but it was still a great sight.

Chinese street singing party

I stayed until 11pm when I decided to make my way back to the underground station, only to find out the last train had already gone. It was a really early finish for one of the leading cities in the world, so a taxi it was.

Next day was the busy day with a plan to walk around the sights from People’s Square, but that’s where I did fall for a sales pitch. The open top sightseeing bus was only £3 for the day, and I knew it would give my legs a rest.

New motor anyone?!

In the walk to People’s Square however, it became clear how this city has earned its reputation as the playground of the rich. Upmarket car brands such as Audi and BMW are just the norm here – instead, super-exclusive car showrooms are dotted around the streets. It was quite normal to walk past a Ferrari parked up in a shop window next to your head, while Gucci and Tiffany seem to be dotted around like a Tesco Express

The local backstreet car dealer

The sights were taken in by two routes on the bus, one that did a loop around Shanghai’s older areas, while another went under a tunnel to the newer financial district and all its skyscrapers.

Bus tour

It was nice to sit for a few hours and take in all the sights, both of old Shanghai and around the modern day city, one of the biggest financial centres in the world.

It included what was until recently the tallest building in the world, the Shanghai World Financial Centre, a peculiar building that rises above all the others, sticking up with a huge opening at the top like some sort of giant bottle opener.

The Jin Mao tower, me, and the World Financial Center

It was about £15 to go up to the observatory – classed as the highest observatory in the world – and take in the impressive, if a little cloudy view (the cloud line was just above the 100^th floor, so every now and again a big cloud would fly by and block the view!)

Don't look down

I’d timed it to see the view in daylight, and then hung around looking through the glass floor and trying to pick out landmarks until it got dark, and then took some night shots too.

From the 100th floor

I also did a bit of research, and found out that all the signs and posters everywhere were now wrong, as a new skyscraper in Dubai has knocked the Shanghai tower off its perch as highest observatory too. They were quite proud of their record here though, so I didn’t have the heart to break the news to them!

Room with a view!

I went down in the high-speed lift to the bottom and walked to something dubiously called the Bund Tourist Tunnel. It cost a fiver to go through, and you get bunged into a funny monorail type thing and travel under the river to the Bund. You pass through all sorts of psychedelic lights and effects, and it was all a bit weird. Some inflatable people fluttered against the windows at one point.

I was really taken by Shanghai though – its very much got a big city feel about it. I was quite gutted to have to leave after just a couple of days. It gets dubbed the ‘Paris of the East’ by tour guides. Well, ive already been to the ‘Paris of Siberia’ in Irkutsk, so ive decided its more of a ‘New York of the Orient’.

Old and new

The tall skyscrapers and busy nature of the city, combined with its old architecture and ‘new living alongside old’ is something I’d definitely go back and visit.

That night, I found a cheapish flight to Xi An and a flight from Xi An to Bangkok in a couple of days. My plan had come together – I was able to fit in a bonus trip to one of the other famous architectural sights in China. But it meant leaving Shanghai earlier than planned.

At least I’ll be able to use the futuristic and exciting Maglev to the airport tomorrow though!

Oriental Pearl Tower, Shanghai

Outside the Forbidden City (as taken by the 'tea leaves')

The Chinese capital is a fantastic place, despite the odd scamp trying to charm money out of your wallet (see previous My Beijing Tea Party post!)

Gali, Santi and I at the 'Birds Nest' stadium

After the episode in the tea shop, I went on to meet Gali and Santi at the site of the Beijing Olympics in 2008. The famous Birds Nest stadium looms large as you walk through the neighbouring park, and I have to say, its even more impressive up close than it appeared on the television.

My memories of watching the Olympics are dominated by the incredible opening ceremony, and as I peered through the railings I could just see through a gap into the stadium. It was quite quiet around, despite for a few hundred tourists doing the same as me, and hard to imagine what it must have been like back then. A few people, when they find out you’re English, start talking about London 2012 and ask if we’re ready for it. Of course, I tell them we are, but I’m not quite sure whether our opening show will quite match the extravagance in China.

The Water Cube and Olympic Stadium

Next we went to the Water Cube, the famous venue that housed the swimming and diving competitions. Its also famous for its impressive appearance, a big square box covered in a material that makes it look like giant bubble wrap, and at night lit up in a dazzling blue.

The Water Cube

Inside we’d learnt they had created a waterpark, complete with slides, wave pool and lazy river. I’d lugged my swim shorts and towel around all day as we’d agreed we would go, as long as both Santi and Gali found somewhere to buy something to swim in. We tried the shops around the venue, but the Chinese must have a liking for tight Lycra-style long Speedos, which as well as being far too revealing, cost about £20. With entry to the pool a ridiculous £20 too, we decided to give it a miss.

Inside the Water Cube

When we got inside, we were glad we gave it a miss – although the waterpark looks fun, there were very few people in there, probably due to the pricing structure. But the sad thing was, although the waterpark has only been open for a year or so, it looked to be in a fairly poor shape. The pool bottom looked to be falling apart, there were signs of extensive repairs, and it just seemed a little underloved considering the famous venue it was in. The same could be said for the Water Cube in general – the carpets on stairs were threadbare in places, tiling was chipped and cracked, and the moat around the outside of the venue was discoloured.

By the Olympic pool

It was a real shame, as a little bit of TLC would bring it back to life again. It was still impressive and worth a visit – and it was great to see the pool where, thousands of miles away, I watched Michael Phelps smash records and win eight gold medals.

The diving pool

It also seemed much smaller in real life – I always imagined Olympic pools to be some enormous stretch of water. Instead, possibly because of a fairly high vantage point, it seemed about the same size as Scartho Baths!

The following day, after retrieving my passport from the Vietnamese Embassy, and retrieving my defrauded £60 thanks to the Chinese police, I took in Chairman Mao’s Mausoleum, Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City.

Chairman Mao's mausoleum in Tiananmen Square

There’s an understandably high level of security around Mao’s mausoleum – all bags have to be left at a separate building across the road from Tiananmen Square, there are three checkpoints before you reach the steps of the building, and armed guards and secret police are everywhere (you just know that the guys in suits wandering around could kill with a single prod!)

There’s a steady line of people walking through the building from the moment it opens until its closure at midday every day. Chinese tourists and Beijingers alike flock to the building to pay their respects to Chairman Mao Zedong, the communist leader who led the revolution. He’s still very much seen by the Chinese people as the man who saved the nation, and this was clear by the outpouring seen at the building where his body lies.

People buy white flowers to leave in the entrance lobby, in front of a giant marble sculpture of Mao sat in a chair. You are then ushered through into the hall where his body lies, softly lit in a glass chamber. Many Chinese visitors bow and quietly say words for him. It was strange to see him, as although he died well before I was born, he’s still such a famous face. His image is everywhere in China, including on the back of banknotes as well as the huge portrait hanging above the entrance to the Forbidden City. The light seemed to reflect slightly off his face, almost as if it was a waxwork – but of course, its not. It was a very sombre atmosphere.

Stepping out into the vast Tiananmen Square, the full scale of the area hits you. It’s the largest public square anywhere in the world, and it certainly feels like it as you walk around.

Mao

The giant buildings either side mean you lose a sense of perspective, and it takes a surprisingly long time to walk from one end to the other. The square is known in the West for the so called Tiananmen Square massacre, and that famous image of a man in a white top standing in the way of a tank during the protests for political reform in 1989. Strangely, in China, its all just known as the June Fourth incident – but nobody can research it, as I found everything blocked on the internet.

Anyway, James Miles, the BBC reporter who originally covered the protests, has since said the violence of the protests did not actually happen in Tiananmen Square, but instead in the streets outside the square. In any case, I can still remember watching it on the television when it happened, and the name of the square immediately brings those images to mind. Its also staggering to know that more than a million people would march for Mao in the square.

Chinese soldier at Forbidden City

Today, theres a very friendly feel to the place – many people are sitting on walls, eating lunch or relaxing with friends. And that’s the first place where I noticed a strange phenomena. I was simply taking a few photographs, when I noticed a Chinese couple moving closer to me. A man nearby had a camera, and was taking a photo of them – but deliberately trying to get me into shot. I thought nothing of it, and walked on.

Five minutes later, it happened again, except not so discreetly. It was all a bit embarrassing really – I had no idea Look North was so popular in the Far East! I’m used to the occasional person coming up to me in and around Yorkshire and Lincolnshire and asking ‘if I’m that bloke off the telly’ (it’s the glasses that get noticed!) but it started getting stupid.

The third time it happened, when a woman was shuffling up next to me, I just said ‘would you like a photo?’ She nodded, and her friend said ‘yes please’. I agreed, but asked why.

“Brown hair, blue eyes, from Europe,” came the reply.

Suddenly, a lot of things became clear. While it wasn’t uncomfortable travelling around Beijing, I had noticed that a lot of Chinese people seemed to stare at me. Its quite weird being on the underground, as sometimes there are that many people looking at you, you have no idea which way to look to avoid eye contact! But now I knew why – being white, with blue eyes and brown hair made me completely different, but the Chinese people, as lovely as they are, have no discretion when it comes to checking you out. Infact, most are quite blatant about it!

Many of those in Tiananmen Square were Chinese tourists, who just like British tourists from around the UK who visit London, were visiting their own capital. Many of them are from smaller, unvisited towns around China where tourism is still probably a bit of a novelty – and therefore, seeing ‘a foreigner’ is a new experience.

Still wary from the tea shop incident, I happily stood for a photo as their friends pointed and stared at me, before taking it in turns to also have a photo with me in various poses, as if I was some sort of dummy (insert your own joke Dad)

I got my own back though – she seemed slightly nervous when I said I wanted one of my own!

Random Chinese woman who wanted a photo!

Next was the Forbidden City, where the entrance fee was £11. Not so far back in history, the entrance fee would have been instant death, as for 500 years it was the private palaces and homes to Emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties.

It’s the worlds largest collection of wooden structures anywhere in the world, and impressive they are too. The Emperors thrones have all been preserved, and its not hard to imagine how this city in a city would have once been.

Forbidden City

One of the strangest things I learned was that much of the Forbidden City burnt down every now and again, mainly due to celebrations and fireworks that were frequently set off from there. As a result, huge gold-plated cauldrons were dotted around – and still sit to this day – that were filled with water to be used if another huge wooden building suddenly takes a dislike to fireworks.

Many of these cauldrons had scratch marks on them, where various attacking armies had got in and tried to nick all the gold in the place, including the gold plating off the statues and other items. It was fascinating stuff, but a lot to take in.

Scrapings still show where attempts made to steal gold

I spent about four hours wandering around, but needed about two days to really do it justice. Unfortunately, I didn’t have two days spare, so I went to the top of a nearby park and took some shots of the Forbidden City stretching out into the distance.

Old and new

Except I would have done, but it was foggy again. I say fog, but in actual fact we’ve learnt it was pollution – smog. It had been on the news about how Beijing was struggling with its worst pollution of the year, and boy could you see it from the high vantage point.

The Forbidden City...and smog

When you think about it, you can almost taste and feel it entering your body. Despite all the work that was done to clean up Beijing’s polluted image around the Olympics, there is still a long way to go – and it can’t be good that visitors go home with cloudy pictures of some of the world’s most historic sites.

This may affect your health...

That night I went to the railway station and booked a seat on an early bullet train to Shanghai the following day, while Santi and Gali tempted me to a nightclub for our last night together. This could get interesting!

The Forbidden City and Mao's portrait

We’d arrived in Beijing and managed to find our way to the hostel in a hutong close to Tiananmen Square. Red Chinese lanterns dangled gracefully from the ceiling, the smell of spices and sizzling meat wafted through the air. It’s the heart of ‘proper’ Chinese cuisine and we were hungry. So we went to McDonalds.

I know, I know, I’m probably going to get flamed for admitting it as much as one of their rival’s burgers, but the simple fact is we were all craving some ‘normal’ Western food, and for the first time since leaving home, all the familiar eateries were everywhere. It’s a strange juxtaposition looking at the big golden arches of one of America’s iconic restaurants, or the Colonels smiling face shining brightly across the most famous square in China. Capitalism at its best in the most communist of countries.

It was a nice treat however, and as Santi said, it was a taste of home, of something familiar after weeks of totally unfamiliar meals, but we vowed we wouldn’t fall into the trap of living on fast food.

Strange sight of woman dragging a head

So that night we ventured for some Chinese fast food in a typical ‘snack street’, at Wufujing. It was a walk which took in Tiananmen Square and past the entrance to the Forbidden City, with the famous sight of Chairman Mao’s portrait hanging on the wall. Music and dancing fountains entertained the crowds, while scores of police and military prowled the area. The only problem was the fog – visibility wasn’t great, so photographs would have to wait.

Wriggle wriggle

Wanfujing snack street is a market just off the main shopping area in Beijing city centre, complete with all the familiar high street names like H&M, Zara, Nike and even a C&A (Remember them!) Glowing with bright red lanterns, red neon, plenty of friendship shops and sweet stalls, it was a hive of activity – not least from the dozens of scorpions trying to wriggle off sticks.

The pincer movement

Yes, this is one of those places that brings it home how our cultures differ. Its like that HSBC advert that you sometimes see, where the little girl in Cambodia picks some insects on a stick and has them covered in hundreds and thousands. Except on the ad, you don’t see anything moving, nor trying to wriggle off a 15inch kebab stick lodged up its backside.

A (tarantula) leggy blonde

Scorpions, tarantulas, some kind of pupae, starfish, sea horses, snake – you name it, you could find it for sale, and more importantly, you could deep fry it and eat it. Another aspect to all of this is the smell – the aroma of sweet and sour from your local takeaway this was not! When insects are fried, they give off a horrendous stench, one which should, in reality, put people off. But it doesn’t, and many people quite happily wander around chowing down on something that would be one of the worst-ever food challenges on ITV’s I’m A Celebrity.

Deep fried ice cream

Undeterred, despite the stench flipping my stomach from time to time, I knew I had to try something. I found a place selling deep-fried ice cream in little pancakes. It was ok, not what I was expecting though, and basically a bit of milk in a pancake. Next up was a ‘chicken’ skewer. Galli bought these, and we double checked with the man cooking them on the grill.

Santi doesn't look convinced

“Chicken?” we asked. “Yes,” he nodded.

It didn’t taste, or have the texture, of chicken, but if I’m honest again, it was quite nice. It was another bit of mystery meat – it could have been chicken, but then again, it could have been dog or aardvark. We’d never know, and besides, the spices and chilli masked whatever the proper taste was.

Tasty mystery meat

Food sampling done, it was time to head back to the hostel. The metro is surprisingly easy to use, and we were back in no time. We all had a beer before heading to the room, and with 660ml of China’s finest Tsingtao on ice at 5 Yuan – 50p – we could have had a few more, but tiredness was creeping in. It had been a long day after arriving from Mongolia. We went to the room – only to find a smiling Arion sat on the spare bunk bed! Somehow he’d managed to check into the same room as us, which was a shock when we first walked in!

I had planned to spend three days in Beijing, before moving on for a few days in Shanghai and then flying to Bangkok at the weekend, around Sunday 6^th November, as I still had to get a visa for Vietnam ready for my organised tour that begins on the 11^th of November. My thinking was that I needed a good few days in the Thai capital before the tour started to ensure there was enough time for the visa to be granted and stuck in my passport. But over the last couple of days, I’ve had a brainwave – if there’s a Vietnam consulate in Beijing, I could buy myself some more time in China.

I searched the internet – which is easier said than done in China thanks to all the website blocks and bans – but sure enough there was a visa office for Vietnam at the embassy. Details were sketchy and mainly in Chinese, but there was a map and so the next day, Tuesday, was an admin and visa day.

I got up early – the map showed it was close to a metro station to the west, not too far from where I was staying. Thinking I’d be done within a couple of hours, I left Santi and Galli having a deserved lie-in and said I’d try to meet them for lunch at the hostel.

The weather was foggy yet again – to the point you could hardly see to the other side of Tiananmen Square. I got off the metro at Yong’Anli, and according to the map, I needed to be at 32 Guanghua Road. Except the pin in the online map seemed to be in a different street. With no sign of any embassy, I turned round and walked the other way. Again, no sign. I stopped at a chemists, who all looked at me blankly, while a taxi driver also had no idea what I was saying despite me pointing to the map. Finally, I stumbled across a soldier stood on a box outside a fairly heavily protected building. It was the Sri Lankan embassy, and thankfully, all the other embassies were nearby.

The online map and directions had been completely wrong. I had been searching for almost two hours, but finally found the Vietnamese embassy complete with armed guard at 11.45am. The guard looked at me and motioned that he was hungry, which I thought was a bit odd. And then I saw the sign which gave me the delightful news the office had closed for lunch fifteen minutes prior to my worn-out arrival.

It didn’t open again until 2pm, so I walked around and stumbled across a Starbucks, complete with free wifi. I didn’t have time to head back to the centre of the city, so bought a coffee and made it last as long as I needed to update my blog. China has blocked WordPress, which I use to update my website, but i found a workaround via a downloaded $5 programme – the only problem being its painfully, mind-numbingly slow. Two hours later, and back in the visa office, I joined a queue. It was made up of visa agency staff, each with around 60 Chinese passports to process.

It was 4.40pm by the time I got back to the hostel. Santi and Galli had gone out with the key, so I was locked out too. A little cheesed off with the whole visa shenanigans, I consoled myself with a 50p beer. My first day in Beijing was almost over and I’d managed to see a bit of Vietnam and a big chunk of America in Starbucks.

Any takers?

All was not lost however. Arion used his Chinese skills to find a good place for dinner. It helps when you speak the language, as all the menus are written in it.

Pass me a bucket

He showed us one that’s a typical Beijing noodle dish. It was lovely – thick, well-cooked noodles with a type of soy sauce, and a side order of Kung Po chicken, my favourite takeaway dish back home. It was a winner – really tasty, even the chopsticks were managed by everyone, and to save problems in the future, we cleverly took pictures of the words on the menu so we could simply show them again at future mealtimes.

A 'proper' Chinese!

Following that was desert of some classic street-hawker sugar coated fruit, known as haws,and an early night. We had a trip to the Great Wall booked for the next day, and it meant another 6am start!

These are actually really nice - Crab Apples and Banana in melted sugar

Make your own jokes!

Heading to the Orient

I’d been booked onto Train 4 from Ulan Bator to Beijing – the actual direct train that runs around half of the globe from Moscow to China.

It’s the service I’d wanted to catch originally from Moscow.

Special route plaque

There’s a degree of romance attached to it I think, the fact that the carriages spend their entire life shuttling backwards and forwards between two of the most secretive countries in the world, over a distance of some 5,000 miles. There’s only one service in each direction each week, proudly displaying their special plaques on the side of the carriages.

A dawn departure from Ulan Bator

After being slightly disappointed it was fully booked from Moscow, I was pleased to get a place onboard at Ulan Bator – if it was full here, I had a four day wait for the next Mongolian train service to Beijing the following Thursday.

It meant an early start as the train left Ulan Bator station at 7.10am. With our drop-off leaving the hostel at 6am, there were a few blurry eyes as the alarm clocks went off at 5.30am.

At the station, the train was already waiting. Steam and smoke from the coal fires burning in each dark green carriage filled the air, while travellers were walking around trying to find their respective compartments. This was a Chinese train, the train guards and carriage attendants, dressed in their smart uniforms and hats, proudly stood to attention by each door. Ahead, the sky was purple and orange as the sun began to rise.

I took my bags onboard and then went outside for some photos. My carriage was the first passenger carriage behind the engine, so it was easy for me to run up to the front and get a few shots before we left Mongolia for the 1,100km journey to Beijing. As I was kneeling down at the front, trying to get a steady, sharp photo, the driver got out of his cab. Then he whistled to me, and at first I thought he was telling me to either move out of the way or get on the train. And then he motioned me to follow him.

He disappeared up some steps on the engine, cleaning the handles as he went, and signalled for me to follow. I clambered up, first into the engine compartment, and then into the drivers’ cab. He moved the chair, grabbed my camera and smiled as he told me to sit down. I couldn’t believe it! He got me to hold the controls, the dead mans handle which controls the power, and took a photo.

At the controls!

What a privilege! There I was, in one of the most far-away, isolated countries, at the controls of one of the most famous trains in the world! I could tell the driver is rightly proud of his job, and I guess he was happy to see a Westerner taking an interest in his loco. It was far from plush in there, with lots of peeling green paint and metal everywhere you looked, but the seat was relatively comfy! Now I had a photo I know I’ll always treasure – the time I sat in the drivers’ seat of a Trans-Siberian express train on its way from Moscow to Beijing.

One of the diesel engines

After a quick shot of the powerful diesel engine on the way out, I thanked the driver as he dashed back to his controls, and I ran back to my carriage where the attendant was waving me on. The door closed behind me, and with a long blast of the horn from the engine at the front, we pulled out of Ulan Bator.

The timetable and stop schedule from Moscow to Beijing

Like most passengers, the early start had knocked me for six, but the beauty of these trains is that you get a bed, so I enjoyed a few more hours kip. I woke again as we were approaching Choyr, on the fringes of the Gobi desert. Inside the cabin was a Mongolian couple, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact, and Arian, from Hong Kong, on his way home.

Camels through a dirty window

We passed a herd of wild camels, slowly making their way through the desert, but I was unable to take a photograph as the windows were filthy. It may be one of the most famous direct trains in the world, but it needed a serious dose of Windowlene. Worried I won’t get any decent photos, at the station I took it upon myself to clean the windows. Unfortunately, my backpack supplies were lacking in glass polish, so it was down to toilet roll and bottled water.

Rub-a-dub-dub

Its fair to say they were filthy, with what was obviously months of dirt thrown up through umpteen thousands of miles of too-ing and fro-ing between Europe and the Far East. The toilet paper wasn’t strong enough, so in the end I got a dirty sock out of my bag and used it as a cloth. Much better!

The Gobi desert

Able to see out of one side now, much of the day was spent writing my blog, as a busy few days in Mongolia meant I’d fallen behind a little. After another few hours, we stopped at Saynshand in the south, where I cleaned another window on the opposite side thanks to a better platform.

I gazed out of the window as the vast plains of the Gobi desert drifted by, complete with wild horses, camels and the occasional isolated yurt. For much of the journey, there was nothing but sand and a horizon. It was incredibly empty, but for a railway line running straight through.

As darkness fell, we approached the Mongolian border and stopped at Zamiin Uud while officials came onboard to check passports and stamp us out of the country.

Station stop on the way to the border

There was a long wait while we waited for clearance to go across the border, during which most people got something to eat. I’d bought a Spanish sausage (Santi and Galli’s influence rubbing off on me!) a small loaf of bread and some more cheese spread to make a sandwich or three. I then carried out probably the dumbest thing of my trip so far, by trying to clean my penknife with my fingers.

It was a momentary lapse of concentration which saw me forget it was actually quite sharp – and slice straight into my thumb. Arion instantly asked if I was alright after watching me do this particularly stupid act – and hearing my suppressed yelp as I tried to hide my stupidity.

Blood mopped up and Tesco first aid kit plaster attached (I knew I’d need that kit!) we slowly began to inch forward. We travelled for about two miles at a crawl, regularly sounding the horn, passing through various gates and fences, before arriving at Erlian. We’d reached China- and what a show they put on!

The first station in China

All along the platform, officials and guards stood to attention, looking dead ahead as the train slowly pulled into the platform infront of them. The Chinese writing that adorns the station, combined with the patriotic music blaring from the station’s speakers, really made it feel like you had arrived somewhere special. Just a few miles before, it was a dusty desert town, now we were in a whole new world – neon lights dazzle in the sky around, while smart-looking hotels and offices rise above the well-kept, smart station.

There was a strange moment though – I recognised the Chinese music I could hear through the window. For reasons unknown, Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On, with a distinct Chinese twist, was the music of choice for the station after the patriotic welcome. It was slightly surreal, but perhaps apt with the travelling theme – it always reminds me of the film Titanic!

Entering the bogie changing shed

China had one more trick up its sleeve to welcome us however, and something I will never forget. Thanks to Russia being awkward, it built all its railways with tracks which are further apart than anywhere else in the world.

Lifting the carriages

Apart from Mongolia of course – but that’s because Russia built their tracks too! It’s known as gauge, and it leaves trains heading elsewhere with a big problem. Once they hit different sized track, the wheels would quite literally come off!

So, in what can only be described as the most amazing pit stop on the planet, the entire train’s wheels have to be changed so that it can run on the tracks in China. After much bumping around, sounding of horns and going backwards and forwards through the station, we are eventually being shunted around the back of a huge long shed, over some points and in through a large door.

One carriage up, wheels off

Inside, powerful bright red jacks, and a workforce of dozens of Chinese engineers, are waiting. The whole train is then hoisted up into the air, leaving the wheels – or bogies to give them their proper name – on the ground.

Taking the wheels off

The whole procedure is fascinating. To feel the carriage being lifted up while everyone is still inside is a strange sensation. Outside, a row of bogies is set up and ready to be rolled underneath.

The new wheels start rolling in

A special pulley system is built into the track, and suddenly it starts moving. In one straight move, the new bogies roll in from outside the shed, knocking every old bogie out of the way, all the way along a line of carriages jacked up in the air.

The row of new wheels moving under the carriages

Incredibly, it takes less than an hour to change the entire train. It’s a procedure that leaves me, and many other passengers, in awe. I was lucky enough to have a helpful carriage attendant who opened up the back door for a few of us to get some great photographs of this unique procedure.

Nice wheels!

With new wheels on, soon a shunter was back at one end of our carriage, and we went bumping along as all of the carriages were pushed back together again, each with a firm thud that jolts everyone back and forth. We pulled out of the shed, and then reversed again, with the now familiar bump, bump, bump as we meet yet another carriage. We go forwards again, passing more carriages in a siding, before reversing into them to pick them up. It creates an extremely long train, which waits until the early hours before being given a green light for the Chinese capital.

The next morning, it was distinctly China outside, and yet again the scenery had changed overnight. We were passing through small villages, lush greenery and winding our way through some incredible gorges, although thick fog in places meant we couldn’t see further than about half a mile from the window.

I woke up with the sound of coins being played with on the table next to my head. It was all the loose change from my pockets that I had dumped on there the night before to prevent one of those ‘loose change noisily rolling around on the floor after falling out of pocket’ moments.

The Mongolian man, who so far had not said a word to me, was studying each and every one. I glimpsed and saw that he was studying a £2 coin, looking at the Queen’s head and running his fingers over the engraved writing. I turned away and smiled to myself. It was all new to him. Coins that are part of everyday life for me, that you scrabble around for in the car to feed into parking meters or vending machines, were a source of fascination, particularly featuring the Queen.

Santi and Gali giving China a wave!

I looked back and he was sorting them into piles – British, Russian and American. I decided it was a good way of breaking our language barrier, and grabbed a few Togrogs out of my wallet. I showed a two-pence piece, and then lifted a 10 Togrog note, and he immediately knew what I was doing. He smiled as I went through various comparisons, and seemed amazed when I showed him the £2 coin was worth getting on for 5,000 Togrogs, which of course in Mongolia is a lot of money.

Free lunch!

Now awake, it was time to venture out into the corridor. At the border we’d been given a green and white ticket, which at first we thought was some sort of immigration formality, but instead turned out to be a free meal voucher. Naturally, the first place for us to head was the dining carriage, some five or six carriages behind us.

We were met with quite a funny scene, as there were very few Chinese people eating in there- they were still sucking on freeze-dried noodles in their cabins – and instead, the dining car was absolutely full of foreigners, all sat swapping travel stories and memories of the journey. We’re obviously suckers for some free grub, and the rail operator knows it!

The first Chinese meal of many!

The food wasn’t bad though, some kind of squishy mystery meat in a ball, potatos and sauce with some rice. It filled a gap for a while, and on an opposite table, Santi and Galli got speaking to some fellow Spanish travellers.

With just a few hours to go before Arion went his own way, he gave me his camera SD card so I could download some of his shots onto my laptop. He’s got a fantastic digital SLR camera, with an even more impressive fish-eye lens which has produced some brilliant group photos. The only problem was, my netbook battery was on its last legs, and I needed a power supply. I went in search of a power socket on the train with enough voltage to keep the netbook operating. Twelve carriages later, I found myself in the uber-first class carriage, where the compartments even get a posh little armchair. But all the poshness and fancy woodwork fell into insignificance, as everyone on the train was after a powerpoint, and I knew these luxury cabins had one in the form of a shaver socket.

New Chinese engine - getting nearer!

I got talking to a German lady, who had been on the train all the way from Moscow in one direct journey. She told me it had been her life’s ambition to travel on the trans-Siberian from her home near Frankfurt. She’d been travelling for over a week, and will spend just a few days in Beijing before flying back home. For her, the destination didn’t matter, it was the travelling that was the holiday. The same for another German woman in the same carriage, travelling with her son, who had even left her husband at home because he didn’t fancy spending all the time on the train.

“With flying, you miss all the scenery and the people you meet on the way,” she said.

 

“It’s all much more of an adventure, and we’ve passed through scenery and places that otherwise we would never see. And you meet wonderful people on the train who become friends.”

Plugging my netbook into their socket, I wholeheartedly agreed – and there was an added bonus in that their windows would open, so we all stood around taking photographs and generally having a lot of fun and laughs. All along this carriage, everyone had clearly become really good friends since leaving Moscow, and as they tried to take group shots between themselves, I offered to become official cameraman and promptly had around six cameras dangling off my arm!

Back in my cabin, and with an hour to go before arriving in Beijing, I caught my cut thumb on my bag as I was packing things away. The cheap Tesco plaster had fallen off, and the Mongolian man could see that it was sore. He said something to his wife outside in the corridor, and then began looking in his bag before handing me a plaster. He gave me a few spares too, which was a lovely gesture, and we began to have as good a conversation as we could in our respective languages.

Oggoo and I approaching Beijing

I found out his name was Oggoo, and that he was travelling with his wife. With the help of a map in my book, he told me they were originally from Japan and will be heading back there next year, as I think his son or daughter is having a baby. He’d seen the photographs on my netbook, and could tell he was trying to have a look, so I showed him the pictures of us all in Mongolia, followed by my photos of home. They both sat on their bed smiling and looking at the photographs, pointing at similarities between me and my family, and gasping when they saw a picture of my house. Its only a three-bed terrace for me, but for them it seemed like a palace as they pointed at the windows and smiled with each other.

Beijing suburbs

When you can’t talk the same language, I’m finding that showing photographs gets you a lot of friends. While you can’t tell the people you meet about your life back home or where you are going, you can show a bit about who you are. It obviously breaks down a bit of the mystery, and makes you into a person rather than ‘that foreigner’ sharing a cabin.

By now, we were in Beijing’s suburbs, and the small rural villages have turned into high rise apartments and towering office blocks festooned with neon and advertising. With my belongings all packed away, I kept a £2 coin separately in my hand. As Oggoo began getting ready to leave the train, I tapped his arm.

“This is for you,” I said.

His eyes lit up. I could tell how fascinated he was by this strange, two-tone coin with a very famous head on it. From a country that doesn’t seem to use coins, it was an alien concept anyway.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” came the reply, as he smiled, stroked it again and put it in his shirt pocket. He then reached into his bag and I could tell he was looking for something.

“For you, very good,” he said, handing me a shrink-wrapped pack of Mongolian sausages.

I said there was no need, but he insisted, and before he left, I made sure I got a photo with him and he said he’d look at my blog, so hello again if you’re reading!

We made it!

With sausages safely packed away, we slowed to a stop at Beijing Railway Station. After almost 8,000km, five time zones and some of the most amazing landscapes and cultures, the trans-Siberian leg was complete.

It was a far cry from the icy cold open-air Moscow station that I left exactly two weeks before – it was covered, the weather was warmer, and we’d pulled in next to one of China’s incredibly smart ‘Bullet’ trains.

The sleek, modern technology put the East German-built carriages of yesteryear that form the trans-Siberian train, complete with their coal fires and dodgy bathrooms, to shame.

But however modern the new trains are, they will never be able to compete with the spirit of adventure, the mind boggling distances, the laughs, the friendships and the incredible feeling of travelling to the far side of the world over land that you get on the trans-Siberian. Tomorrow, they do it all over again, as the train heads back to Moscow.

It beats flying any day!

Goodbye trans-Siberian!

Catching up with the Mongol Messenger!

Outer Mongolia – a part of the world that’s really only known for its remoteness, synonymous with isolation and being on the edge of the world. So much so, it’s even become a figure of speech around the world, and probably one of only a few claims to fame for the country. There’s been the odd joke banded around by certain sections of my friends that at times have wanted to send me to Outer Mongolia – well shortly after 6.10am on Thursday, October 27^th 2011, that wish was granted

Stepping onto the platform, it was cold. Snow had settled around the tracks, and the air was filled with everyone’s breath. We were supposed to be met by a representative from the UB Guesthouse, the hostel we’d booked by email in Irkutsk. It offered a free pick-up, but instead another hostel representative told us that nobody was around, admitting it was unusual.

After a cold early morning hike, our rep found us!

Getting cold, we looked at a map and decided to walk to the hostel. It didn’t seem too far away, so en-masse, we threw out backpacks on and marched out of the station. We’d picked up a few more now – Daniele, from Venice in Italy, was on the train and had booked the hostel too; and Arion, from Hong Kong. For some reason, I was elected as the group leader, in charge of getting us to our final destination, and it was quite a sight to look back and see the line of backpackers stretching along the main road into Ulan Bator, marching together and following me!

Street signs (and understandable writing) are back!

Thankfully, English letters are widely used around the city, and it was nice to be able to read shop signs once again! There were even signposts helpfully pointing us in the direction of tourist sites!

Statue in Ulan Bator

Eventually, we reached a point where the map didn’t seem to tally-up with the landmarks. It took me a few minutes to work out, by the shapes of the road, where we were, before everyone followed me again and down Peace Avenue. By now, it was dawn, and the sun was rising over the mountains in the distance. We weren’t far away from the hostel when suddenly there was a shout from behind. Daniele had been stopped by Bobby, who runs the UB Guesthouse, who had all our names on pieces of paper ready to meet us off the train. She couldn’t apologise enough – she’d slept in!

Madness in Ulan Bator

We were grateful of the cars that took us and our heavy bags to the hostel, where Bobby ran over a few ground rules and told us about trips we could go on. I was only in Mongolia for a few days, so wanted to see as much as I could, and a tour of the Teralj national park and a night in a Mongolian Yurt was recommended. I signed up for $45 and booked my onward rail ticket to Beijing.

Main parliament building in Ulan Bator

We spent the day looking around the city, taking in the parliament building complete with giant Genghis Khan (he’s everywhere!) and our group went for a Mongolian lunch on one of the main streets.

Ghengis Khan hats are all the rage!

I don’t know if 10 days of bland Russian food was responsible, but it was by far the best meal I’ve had since dinner in London’s China Town the night before I left the UK.

Mongolian lunch

There was a Mongolian starter of meat in pastry, then a main of chicken and mushroom stir fry with rice – it even had fresh vegetables in it, how I’d missed them! Hot, tasty, and incredibly cheap, coming in at a grand total of 4,600 Togrogs (yes, Togrogs!) so about £2.20, including a drink. To be honest, they could have charged a lot more and we’d have been more than happy, it was just nice to be able to use our tastebuds again!

Hurrah for fresh veg!

Mongolian money is an interesting currency, aside from the comedy name. There’s around 2,200 Togrogs to the pound, which meant to pay for my trips and onward rail fare, I needed around a quarter of a million of them. A trip to the ATM is like playing Deal or No Deal on the screen, with various huge amounts available to withdraw.

2p...or not 2p?!

They don’t seem to use coins here, although the guidebook mentions something called Mongos which make up Togrogs. However, it throws up the lowest value note I think I’ve ever come across: I introduce the 10 Togrog note, worth the equivalent of 2p! Talk about whether its worth the paper its printed on!

Ulan Bator twinkling away from the observatory

That night, inspired by the dark, clear skies the night before, we noticed there was a trip to an observatory high in the mountains above Ulan Bator. A few of us decided to go, and that’s when we first experienced Mongolian roads, and in particular, Mongolian driving. It really does seem to be every man for himself on the streets – cars don’t stop at streetlights, speed limits don’t exist, lane markings seem to be merely road decorations. Everywhere you look, someone’s just been cut-up, someone’s just pulled out into someone’s path, a pedestrian is running for their life. And everything is done with a blast of the horn. We held on as our driver overtook on blind bends and into oncoming traffic. Now, Mongolia is a sparsely populated country – for somewhere the size of western Europe, to only have two million inhabitants is quite good going, considering the vast army that must have been amassed for its conquering past.  But I think I’ve worked out why: the combustion engine was invented, cars found their way to Mongolia, and now their bad driving is keeping the population down. Its some of the daftest, scariest driving I’ve ever known!

Icy walk up to the mountain observatory - we'd survived the roads!

Somehow we survived the journey to the observatory, and we had a fascinating few hours looking at different stars, including the Andromeda. My favourite part was looking at Jupiter – its moons and markings, including its famous red stripes and huge spot, were clearly visible through the telescope. It’s something I’ve never seen before, and the lack of street lights and light pollution in this part of the world means you get one of the best opportunities to have a good look at the night sky.

Mongolian countryside and yurts

We were up early the next morning for yet another terrifying drive out to the Teralj national park. With some overnight gear, we were heading to spend the night in a traditional Mongolian yurt, a white tent, with a nomadic family.

Our camp for the night

After about an hour and a half of being flung around the roads, we arrived in the park, and it was incredible. Snow covered mountain sides, rocks which rise out of the ground from nowhere, a view down a valley- and complete and utter silence.

There was a yell from somewhere high above me, and Daniele had climbed his way up the rocks. I took some photographs of him before following him up. The view was spectacular – snow capped mountains in the distance and valleys all around. It reminded me of pictures I’ve seen of areas around the Grand Canyon, as the rocks were of a similar colour and shape.

Staying alive...just!

We sat and took in the view, and before long the entire group was up there for photographs.

We entered the yurt, and surprised to find it toasty and warm inside thanks to a wood-burning stove which was crackling away in the centre. Its surprisingly homely inside, with patterned cloth covering the walls, and five or six beds positioned around the outer edge of the tent.

The family arrived soon afterwards, and told us dinner would be ready in an hour.

Me and my yurt!

A few of us ventured up the snow covered hillside on the other side of the valley, taking a seat on some tree stumps, no doubt left behind after some firewood-hunting.

How long until the beach?!

After a few laughs and the odd snowball, we all fell silent. It was a weird moment – after all the hustle and bustle of Russia, trains and the madness of Ulan Bator’s roads, we now had extreme natural beauty and complete silence – a silence that doesn’t seem real, as if your ears are playing up. We probably sat for around 20 minutes, looking out and taking it in.

Isolated

Lunch was stir-fried noodles, vegetables and meat – I’m not sure what sort of meat, but I’m told goat is quite popular with the locals. Whatever it was, it was quite nice!

Someone had the hump

After lunch, there was concern about how cold the yurts had got. We’d all presumed the family would keep the fires going, but apparently not.

Me man...make fire!

I opened the lid on the stove, and there were just a few dying embers. Most of the group were heading to try and find a lighter, but I thought I could save the fire. I blew onto some of the ash, and found a bit that was still glowing. With a bit of paper out of my notebook, and a good handful of the dead wild grass from outside, I set about blowing and moving the items over the embers desperately trying to get them to light.

Success! Twisted firestarter!!

Thankfully, my male pride was left intact as suddenly there was success, and the paper and grass ignited. It was smoky at first, but with others bringing more grass and a few logs, we soon had it going again. Someone shouted ‘Willlssoooooon’, mimicking the scene out of the film Cast Away when Tom Hanks manages to make fire for the first time. With a wood-burning stove in my living room at home, I’m just used to trying to salvage a fire from glowing embers – but it got me the role of chief fire starter in both yurts for the rest of the stay!

Giddy up!

There was a good few hours in the afternoon when we went horse riding. It was something I’ve not done for a long, long time, although I am quite good around the animals thanks to my first girlfriend having a horse. However, my sole attempt at riding her – Lulu was her name – wasn’t much of a success and instead just made Kerri and her mum laugh (Hi Maria!) However, the horses here were much smaller, and young Khana, the 16 year old son of the couple who run the camp, took Arion and I out for a ride.

Khana behind highly amused!

It was great fun, and much easier than I remembered. Khana found it hilarious to send my horse galloping off every now and then by waving his rope around, in between using his English skills to ask us where we were from and telling us how he was studying in the city but loved the countryside. He said his family had more than 60 horses, six cows and a camel. He asked me what my horse was like in England, and I tried to explain how it was expensive back home to own one. He then met his friend who was walking up the hill, and obviously offered him a lift up to his yurt.

Ride home cowboy!

“Just make your way back now,” Khana said, obviously oblivious to the slight concern this put into both of us. As he disappeared over a hill, I tried to make the horse go faster. Kicking him in the ribs didn’t seem to work, but eventually I found the accelerator by shaking the reins and leaning forward. As if by magic, off he went, despite the occasional pause (too many Mongolian takeaways I think!)

Daniele, Khana and I, along with the family dog

We got back in one piece, and having clearly impressed with our equestrian skills, were then tasked with taking the saddles off and riding them bareback to the stables – a bony spine made for an uncomfortable few minutes!!

Cosy yurt at night

The night was spent huddled around a small table, swapping traveller tips, photographs and eating meat and rice by candlelight as the stove crackled away.

Candlelight supper in the yurt

It was very relaxing, and before bed we all went out to gaze at the stars once again.

The next morning I was woken up by the freezing cold – the fire went out overnight -the sound of a horse munching grass next to my head, and Daniele asking if I wanted to see the sunrise. We ventured up the rocks, but it was too cold to be sitting up there for long so I headed back to bed for a few hours. After breakfast, we said goodbye to Matieu and Daniele, who were staying for two nights, and headed back to UB. We came across a young lad with an eagle and a condor at the side of the road, so we stopped for photos.

He put the eagle on my arm – it was an incredible animal. Its eyes were so alert, scanning the horizon and looking at me. Its sharp, hooked beak just a few centimetres from my head, its powerful wings outstretched. I could see and hear it breathing next to me.

Condor

There was part of me that feared it, another part that was in awe. It was amazing to be so close to such a majestic bird.

The rest of the day was spent looking at the temples at the Gandan Monastery, picking up a couple of souvenirs and buying some food for the train the following day.

'My big fat Mongolian wedding'

Ulan Bator isn’t going to win any awards for its beauty or character, nor for its standards of driving, but Mongolia has some incredible landscapes. While its capital city is clearly polluted – a haze of smog was clearly visible hanging over the city like, well, a bad smell – its interesting to note how its locals, be them in yurts or in high-rise apartments, live happily side-by-side. Its not often you see tents squeezed inbetween offices and apartments, but that’s life here. It’s a real mix of different cultures and influences – you could be forgiven for thinking when you see some of its modern buildings that, along with the dusty setting, that you were in the Middle East. Then there’s the English everywhere, mixed in with Russian and Chinese signs, along with a bit of Korean.

Had to be done!

It’s as if it can’t quite make up its mind where it belongs, and so goes along with a bit of everything. There is undoubtedly a lot of poverty here, but it was an exciting city to visit and I’ll always remember my night in the middle of the Mongolian countryside in a tent, riding a horse through its mountains and getting to grips with a huge eagle, thankfully before it managed to get to grips with me!

Random people on landlines everywhere!

When it comes to being far away from home, you can’t get much more isolated than sleeping in a tent in the middle of a mountain range in Outer Mongolia…but tomorrow, its time to head back towards civilisation once again, and the hustle and bustle of Beijing.

In the words of Arnie!

On track at the Russian border

For the first time, I knew there would be someone I could definitely talk to on the trans-Siberian train to the Mongolian capital Ulan Bator. Over the last few days in Irkutsk, a group of us had got to know each other at the hostel, and four of us – Matieu from France, and Santi and Gali from Spain and I were all heading to Mongolia on the same train.

Catching the train at Irkutsk

We’d all gone to buy our tickets at different times – yet incredibly, we’d all been put in the same compartment in carriage seven! It was a huge long train, and almost as if fate was insisting at some point we would all meet, even if we hadn’t been staying in the same accommodation.

We all set off from the hostel, knowing our time in Russia had come to an end. With just a day left on my visa, I was unable to stay any longer anyway. We took a tram to Irkutsk station, where there was a throng of people in the departure hall waiting for the platform number to appear next to our service, number 362. Just as I was debating whether to make a quick run for a famous Russian deep-fried pasty, the platform number appeared and everyone was off, scurrying down into a tunnel and out to the waiting train.

Santi, Matieu, Gali and I getting settled in the compartment

The provodnitsa, which I’ve now found out is the proper term for the female carriage attendant, was waiting at the door, collecting tickets and checking passports.

Goodbye Irkutsk

She was about 50, tall with neatly permed, bleached blonde hair, and she knew a little bit of English. It was a cold night, well below freezing, and the atmosphere on the platform was buzzing with an adventurous feeling. I’ve never crossed a border in a train before, let alone seen the dramatic scenery we were all expecting, and quite a few backpackers were around, obviously feeling the same. For the locals too, this is quite a journey, and there were hugs and goodbyes on the plaftform before I was ushered inside rather bluntly by the provodnitsa.

The line to Mongolia

Inside it was a much more modern carriage – and it was full of tourists! We’d obviously all been bunched together into one part of the train. It was nice on one hand to be among people you can talk to, but part of the fun has also been meeting the locals and finding out all about their lives and where they were heading. Nevertheless, we pulled out of Irkutsk, rounded Lake Baikal and we were on our way to the border.

In our compartment we had a great time talking to each other, finding out where everyone was heading and having some good-natured cross-European banter…mainly at the expense of the French! Matieu just shrugged his shoulders in a typically French fashion from time to time, accepting some of the charges we put to him (usually about white flags and stupid foods like snails) but retaliating with retorts such as “well all your food is o’reeble” or “ow can you eat zat disgusting cheddar cheese in your country”

Bread buns for a cheese sandwich....

In fact, we were all laughing so hard, the providnitsa poked her head round our door and told us to shush. So we did for a while, closing our compartment door and trying to keep the noise down. I undid all the good work by deciding to make a cheese spread sandwich, using the bread buns I’d bought earlier. It was then I inadvertently discovered another bizarre Russian food – to my shock, whilst ripping the end of my bread bun off, hoping to dunk it my Dairylea-esque cheese triangle, I found a strange-looking sausage, buried deep within the roll and poking its end out at me! It was a ready-made hot dog, one of the strangest things I’d seen.

Surpriiiise!!!!

There were howls from the lads, amid cries of ‘only in Russia’, and it was promptly renamed the Russian Kinder Surprise. Even a simple cheese spread sandwich can go disastrously wrong in this country, another example of mealtime Russian roulette!

On our way

By now it was around midnight, and with us all cracking more jokes and laughing about some of the stranger episodes we’d all experienced in Russia, suddenly the door flew open. It was the provodnitsa again, this time wagging her finger, shouting something in Russian at us and glaring into all of our eyes before sliding the door shut so hard it almost came off its runners as she stomped off back down the corridor to her little room.

It didn’t have the desired effect – we all sniggered and laughed like naughty schoolboys who’d just been told off by the teacher. It was group bonding at its finest!

Now we all had a mutual understanding of each others wit and humour, despite the occasional language break-down or misunderstanding, and now we also had a common thorn in the side, that of the curly-haired provodnitsa trying to keep order in her carriage. I went to the bathroom, only to be told she’d returned yet again in my absence to shout at Gali for laughing too loudly.

By now, we realised she meant business, and with another day and night at her mercy, decided we ought to go to sleep.

The scenery changed overnight

The next morning, and for the first time on this journey, I was taken aback by the complete change in landscape when I first looked out of the window. The cities and towns, the greenery, the trees and bushes, they’d all disappeared.

Pesky Ladas getting in the way!

They’d been replaced by open plains and mountains, by dust and sand, the occasional animal drinking from a stream. There was a Lada too, trying to keep up with the train at one point – those hardy Russian cars get everywhere out here!

More and more of the travellers onboard were waking up now, probably hearing the commotion outside the compartment doors from those of us taking photographs of the dramatically different scenery. It was mid-morning, and the sun was in an ideal spot for shots outside the right hand side of the train. There was an Italian, more French guys, a couple from the south coast of England and a guy from Hong Kong who is on his way home after 18 months travelling around the world.

That's Km from Moscow...

After taking a few photographs, I decided to make a cup of tea at the samovar. I poked my head out into the area between the carriages, and suddenly realised half of the train had gone missing!

Making noise in the corridor!

At some point in the night, we’d left a load of carriages somewhere, I’m presuming the town of Ulan Ude, but it meant we were now at the end of the train, and able to get some cracking shots of the tracks stretching into the distance over the plains. I was joined by a few others, and we were laughing and talking while making our respective cuppas, when all of a sudden a compartment door flew open next to us.

Missing carriages made for great shots like this!

It was the provodnitsa – complete with nighty, hair curlers and wagging finger – who despite being laid down and had clearly been asleep, managed to shout something in Russian at us. It sounded similar to what she’s said the previous night, and while I don’t know any Russian swear words, I’m presuming there was one in there!

Trying to behave!

I did my usual trick at times of confrontation and quickly scampered down the corridor to the relative safety of my compartment, while I heard the provodnitsa’s door slam back shut behind me. Everyone else went back to their own bunks too, amid much more sniggering and laughter.

We reached Naushki, the Russian border town, 5895km from Moscow, at about 1pm. The provodnitsa –in a slightly better mood but still wearing her nighty – shouted down the corridor in English that it would be two hours before we went anywhere, and to be back on the train for 4pm. Or was it that it would be two to four hours before we went anywhere? Nobody seemed to know for sure, but we had plenty of time on our hands either way.

Heading to the border

The border town of Naushki

We ventured into the village and to a little market, where you could buy such delights as dried up chicken or browning puzzle magazines which have been basking in the Siberian sun for months on end.

We used the opportunity to group together and get some photographs of the train. It became clear that lots of different trains are brought here, and then shunted together to make one long train to head through the border.

Gali chases after our carriage that's being 'nicked'

It was still a worrying sight to see our carriage, complete with most of our belongings onboard, being hooked up to a shunter and disappearing into the distance!

It’s a weird feeling in Russia when you walk freely onto the railway tracks. It’s just a way of life here – people don’t use bridges or crossing points, mainly because there aren’t many. It goes against all our Western instincts, drilled into us to stay off the tracks or risk all manner of horrific death.

Even if you keep all your limbs intact if you walk on a line back home, you face hefty fines or prison for trespassing.

Watch out!

Here, you simply have to look both ways to check there isn’t 300 tonnes of Russia’s finest timber on a goods train heading your way and walk straight across, making sure you lift your feet high enough over the rails to avoid providing a comedy moment for an entire express train parked nearby. In some cases you can’t avoid it walking over the tracks, as helpfully, there’s no platform provided.

The European Union!

The upshot of this is that you can get some cracking photographs that normal rules in the UK won’t ever let you get, and with the sun in a perfect position, everyone had a lot of fun trying out different creative shots.

Hanging - and larking - around!

There was a bit of messing around too – like pretending to pull carriages with bare hands, hanging off the steps, and some good group photos on the tracks. From all corners of Europe, we all had a common reason for being at that station at that time – to say we’d made the longest train journey in the world – and we made sure we had plenty of memories to take back home with us.

Too many Strongest Man tv shows!

By 4pm, our carriage had moved again – it was now stuck two tracks away from the platform, and the provodnitsa, still with curlers in her hair, let us back on. Soon after, the Russian customs officials came on, complete with all their smart uniforms and overbearing manner. Ours was quite pretty, but she squinted as she twice compared the smartly suited, clean-cut photograph of me in my passport with the scruffy, tired and unshaven mess that was in front of her. She then grilled me as to why I didn’t have an immigration card – something I can’t remember ever having, and then remembered that British Airways announced on the flight to Moscow there had been a cock-up at Heathrow and none had been put onboard.

Shunting us around

Customs at Domodedovo had been informed so we were okay, but sadly that wasn’t the case at all the other border points in the country. She looked at me with a disappointed expression, despite my explanation, and clearly thinking I’d lost it somewhere. For once, I hadn’t!

Connecting us back together

All our passports were taken away, and returned about an hour later, complete with departure stamp, and as the sun began to set, we were shunted back into a long train and slowly inched our way into no-mans land between Russia and Mongolia.

The sun sets as we pass Russian border lookouts

All along the track through the border are menacing look-out posts and mile after mile of barbed wire and electric fences, and the occasional armed border guard walking beside the track. The train kept sounding its horn as we rounded a final bend, through another fence and stopped next to a plinth. On top, a Mongolian flag – we had left Russia.

Welcome to Outer Mongolia!

Now in darkness, we pulled into the Mongolian border town of Sühbaatar, where we repeated the customs procedure but with Mongolian officials (one of whom brazenly stole my UK Digital Switchover pen, of the type handed out in their dozens around the BBC newsroom!) We had yet another scare, as we returned from the station toilets to find our train had disappeared, although thankfully yet another shunting procedure, and with our passports back, we were on our way.

Due to arrive in Ulan Bator at 6am, and strangely losing an hour of time on the way despite the travel east, we decided an early night was in order. Except the carriage was oppressively hot, at times feeling like a sauna. A temperature gauge gave a reading of 30°c at the end of the carriage, but inside the compartment it was even hotter. With a heater blowing like a furnace next to my head, I decided to ask the provodnitsa if we could have the temperature turned down. I swear I heard my compartment colleagues say a prayer for me as I left to see her at the end of the corridor.

“No…its electrical” came her short and firm reply.

Slowly roast overnight...

The night before, she’d made an effort to cool the carriage to 25°c by opening all the windows, which is a strange position to be in considering we’re in the depths of snowy Siberia. But not tonight. I fear her payback for the disturbed sleep was to let us slowly roast on our way to the coldest capital city on the planet.

That night, I laid on my bed with the blind open, looking up at the stars while everyone else was asleep. The sky was amazingly clear and dark, the stars shimmering away. Even though we were moving, I could see so many of the constellations. Jupiter was bright in the sky. And then, out of the corner of my eye, a flash of light streaked across the horizon. I watched even more intently – and in just fifteen minutes, I counted five shooting stars.

I reflected on the journey. To think this was the part of my travels I was most concerned about just a few weeks ago – the part that prompted worried conversations with close friends about being lonely or bored, that even at times gave me second thoughts about it all – I was loving it.

Cold!

Russia was a complete surprise for me – I found the people, current provodnitsa aside, among the friendliest, most hospitable people I’ve ever met. Yes, the food was bland and boring at times (when you eventually found somewhere to buy it) and yes, everything, even the simplest tasks like asking for directions, trying to find a tourist site without any signposts, buying a train ticket or working out where the Metro was heading, was a major struggle. But that was almost part of its charm. People in Russia just get on with it!

Russia though is a beautiful place, full of interesting architecture and history, with some amazingly pretty scenery like around Lake Baikal. The stereotypical ‘grey, stern, miserable’ image of Russia had been blown out of the water for me – those images of queues for bread were no more. It’s a sophisticated, developed country, one I’m pleased to have visited and take away fond memories of some very special people. People like Andrey and his family, of Igor on the train who, without knowing me, gave me his number and offered help if ever I needed it (he’s even added me on Facebook and now following my progress around the world through my blog) And of course the lovely grandmother Yekaterina, who took me under her wing, fed me, watered me, and generally looked concerned for me as she tried to understand why anyone would want to travel around the world on their own.

Now the trans-Siberian adventure moves on to Ulan Bator, and the train pulls into the snowy station bang on time. Laden down with backpacks, rucksacks and uneaten food, the provonidtsa looks at me, smiles, and says ‘goodbye’.

As I walk past her, she pulls my hood up out from under my backpack strap and puts it over my head. “Its cold” she smiles, and waves us on our way.

Even she had a heart of gold really!

Day three onboard starts with the usual changearound – the two Warhammer fans get off at Novosibirsk, two other people move in. Its quite fun seeing who gets on, and we go through the same process of saying hello and that I cant speak English all over again!

The windows won't open!

Another day, another station!

I got off at Novosibirsk and had a wander around to wake up a bit. My watch tells me its 9.30am, but all the station clocks say its 7.30am. Ive adjusted my watch to the local time, as we’ve passed through two time zones, but it seems the railways here run by Moscow time to save confusion. I cant quite work out the logic for passengers – I don’t know how I’d cope knowing that I had to keep taking two hours off my given time just so I don’t miss the train.

Novosibirsk had a big green station, and I took the opportunity to take a few photos and buy a stale chocolate croissant off the platform. Except it wasn’t chocolate, it was some form of date, and to be honest, utterly revolting. More Super Noodles for me today then!

By now, the carriage attendant is becoming used to me asking how long we’ll be stopped for, and smiles as I walk up to her brandishing my watch for her to point at where the big hand will be when I either need to be back on the train or run after it. Amazingly, despite the thousands of miles these things go, they run on time – to the absolute second. Ive now worked out that there’s two carriage attendants, a man and a woman, and they sleep in the cabin two doors down. He usually works at night on station duty, she works during the day on station duty, hoovering the cabins duty, cleaning the toilets duty, stoking the samovar duty, polishing the glass duty, emptying the bins duty, even rolling out a bizarrely long, tea-towel style mat along the entire length of the carriage duty yesterday. Ive still not worked out what its for, im presuming its to protect the long thin carpet underneath, but every time I see it now its all twisted up, and she’s usually at the end of it trying to ‘right’ it like its some sort of skipping rope.

If you missed my last post, here's Yekatarina (left) and Yuri and his partner

In my cabin, my new travelling companions are working me out. Im presuming Yekaterina has told them about me in Russian, and they seem surprised that an Englishman is travelling across their country on his own. There was a moment of uneasy suspicion around the word ‘journalist’ that I could make out. Im trying to be careful about who knows, as I know the Russian authorities aren’t too keen on people in my profession. I then make out the words ‘James Bond’ in part of their conversation. Brilliant, what’s worse than being identified as a journalist in a former Communist state? Being fingered as a potential British spy, that’s what! I quickly said I’m no James Bond, and that I’m purely a tourist, and they laughed!

Speaking of which, ive read in my Trans Siberian handbook that I’m supposed to have ‘registered’ my visa within three days of arriving in Russia.

A very, very useful book!

Naturally, ive not done that yet, mainly as I didn’t realise I had to. Ive either got to go to a police station, or get my hotel to do it for me. Seeing as ive been on a train for three days, ive not had much chance to do that, so hoping the authorities aren’t waiting for me in Irkutsk to deport me out of the country…or worse!

I noticed a strange thing today. Some fairly main roads ran along the railway today, and I saw a surprising number of British lorry trailers being hauled around. There was even one from Howard, a haulage company I recognised from Grimsby. They tend to stick out a bit, as it’s the only thing for miles around written in English letters. There must be a dealer somewhere who specialises in getting old trailers exported to the depths of Siberia. Weird!

I got a text from Dad earlier, who tells me their giant map from Amazon has arrived. They’re trying to work out how to mount it somewhere in the house, and they’re going to keep track of me around the world and plot where I am. Ive told them how ive passed through Yekaterinberg, and Dad said in the text how im a long way from home now  – its starting to feel like it too.

Siberian countryside

I’m right in the depths of Siberia now as I write this, just past the 4,000km mark from Moscow, and outside there is now snow on the ground. I wasn’t expecting to see any of the white stuff, but the plains we’re apparently passing through (its dark!) are frozen for much of the year. As I look on the map heading towards Krasnoyarsk, it dawns on me how utterly remote this is. Thousands of miles away from home, now days of travel away from proper civilization with things like airports and internet, and chugging along on the bit of the world you never look at on the atlas or at the back of a globe! Incredible. And I reflect on this with a half-litre bottle of Russian beer, my book….and curry-flavoured Super Noodles before heading to bed!

Russian railways

Day four onboard, and I think Im starting to feel how contestants on Big Brother must feel, like it’s a bit of a social experiment. Or a prisoner, one of the two. Didn’t sleep too well last night as I was kept awake by the strange high-pitched snoring of my fellow top-bunk Russian traveller. Had we been mates, or known him better, I’d have definitely whacked him over the head with my pillow. I came close to it as it was, but he’s quite well built. Instead, I pulled the duvet over my head and tried to blot it out.

I woke up at 9am local time, although I think im supposed to have added another couple of hours on overnight. The clocks at the station outside say 7am, but it definitely feels like mid-morning. Its strange not knowing for sure. The views outside are definitely better today – the grey, murky landscape has given way to a sunny, beautiful view. Its definitely colder, the lakes and ponds are frozen, and theres a dusting of snow on the little wooden houses we pass by.

Brrrr!

The train is now winding through some valleys, and you can see the front of it as it turns ahead through the window. It would make a great photo, but none of the windows open unfortunately. We’re due to arrive in Irkutsk at 2.40pm according to the timetable onboard, but ive now got no idea when that will be – im presuming Moscow time!

I finished off my book this morning – from start to finish in two days, unheard of for me! It had 356 pages and everything, detailing Piers Morgan’s rise to fame on America’s Got Talent. There are some great tales in it. Outside the cabin, the carriage attendant has decided to roll up the giant tea-towel and is hovering away again. I stand by the window and look for a kilometre post, so I can work out where we are with the handbook – its got a km by km guide inside, so you know the key things to look out for. We’re at 4,998km from Moscow, so I stand and watch for the 5,000km post as it flashes by the window. That leaves just 185km until my destination. It seems a long time ago now since we were pulling out of Moscow, and while its been relaxing and enjoyable, it’ll be nice to get off the train and see somewhere again.

Decisions, decisions!

Oh, and to eat something with a bit of substance. Speaking of which, its time for lunch…what will it be? Chicken or chow mein flavour?!

As darkness fell, we pulled into Irkutsk station. Yuri, who was the snorer, was wide awake now and asking me how I was getting to my accommodation. He and his partner were also getting off at Irkutsk, and were trying to ask me how I was going to get to the Downtown Hostel, on the other side of the river which divides the city. I showed him my map, and when I explained I was going to walk (walking motion with my fingers of course!) he said, firmly, ‘no, no, no!’

He rang someone on the phone, who I worked out was picking him and his partner up at the station. He then starts nodding and motioning for me to go with him. Yekaterina said ‘he’s going to help you’ and it became clear he wanted to give me a lift. I couldn’t believe it, what a fantastic gesture – and without further ado, I was meeting his friend and being taken to their car.

We went to the address given. Nothing. Yet again, the Russian way of ‘no signs, no directions, no hope if looking for accommodation’ was ringing true. Then I spotted a map and a sign – it had moved!

The hostel had moved!

By now, i’m feeling awkward – poor Yuri and his girlfriend/wife were probably itching to get home. Instead, they were insisting that they get me somewhere safely. I was humbled, such a kind gesture, and five minutes later, we found the Nerpa Backpackers hostel. I couldn’t thank them enough – an amazing gesture, and one that typifies just how kind-hearted and caring i’m finding this nation can be.

Irkutsk station

So here I am, Irkutsk, 5180km from Moscow, and now eight hours ahead of the UK time. Tried to get to sleep – suffering from that strange phenomenon known as ‘train lag’!